


Though this be madness (move away from the tiger)

by strawberriesandtophats



Series: Disaster Management has always been their forte [12]
Category: Endeavour (TV)
Genre: Happily Ever After AU, Jakes Never Leaves AU, M/M, Prey - Freeform, Season 3 Ep. 3, Sharing a Bed, The Tiger Episode
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-06
Updated: 2017-08-06
Packaged: 2018-12-11 22:58:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11724342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strawberriesandtophats/pseuds/strawberriesandtophats
Summary: “You are never going to do that again,” Jakes ordered Morse, holding tightly onto Morse’s arm so that he wouldn’t fall over. Morse’s walk wasn’t steady, his knees kept buckling and entire body was still trembling. “Standing in front of a man eating tiger, Morse, is not acceptable behavior.”





	Though this be madness (move away from the tiger)

“You are never going to do that again,” Jakes ordered Morse, holding tightly onto Morse’s arm so that he wouldn’t fall over. Morse’s walk wasn’t steady, his knees kept buckling and entire body was still trembling. “Standing in front of a man eating tiger, Morse, is not acceptable behavior.”

Jakes quickened his pace as the first raindrop hit him on the nose. It would only take them a few minutes to walk to his bedsit.

“It would have eaten them,” Morse argued, but his voice was shaking. He swallowed constantly, as if trying to swallow a lump in his throat. “And I don’t think there are any man-eating tigers left in Oxford…”

“A tiger,” Jakes muttered as Morse leaned against him, breathing against his neck. “ _In Oxford_.”

“Good thing that Bright had a rifle,” Morse said, his smile coming out more wobbly and determined than happy.

“I’ll spend the rest of my life thanking him for that,” Jakes muttered. He’d file every report, put his best foot forwards when they were in the spotlight and chase down every criminal in Oxford. And if asked, he’d even make Bright tea in the staff room.

Jakes dug out his keys and opened the front door, listening to Morse’s uneven breathing as they climbed the stairs to his room. Morse’s shirt clung to his back and Jakes was already mentally riffling through his closet for a suitable shirt that Morse could borrow. Not that he’d bought three new shirts recently that he’d bought in case Morse would need a few new ones. He never returned Jakes’s shirts anyway.

When he’d first brought Morse over, it had been because they’d been up for several nights in a row, working to find a murderer who targeted young police officers. Thursday hadn’t let them go home, so they’d only caught a few catnaps at the nick, huddling together in  few rickety chairs. Jakes’s bedsit had just been closer to the station, that had been all. They’d slept in a pile on Jakes’s bed, still dressed in their shirts and ties, only having removed their shoes and jackets.

And when Jakes had woken up the next morning, ready for Morse to bolt out of the room and making weird opera references to explain why he thought sleeping next to Jakes wasn’t something he ever wanted to do again.

Instead, Morse had sipped his tea and smiled as he had decided that whatever was going on was a good thing, instead of a one-night sleepover thing. 

Jakes opened the door to his bedsit, aware of Morse’s hand on his shoulder, fingers brushing up against his neck.

“No more tigers,” Morse said, brushing past him and flopping down on the small sofa.

“That is an order,” Jakes said, closing the door behind him and heading straight for the kettle. When he looked up after putting it on the hob and checking if he had enough teabags, Morse was looking at him in that strange calculating way he had when he was analyzing some odd evidence. Jakes loosened his tie,breathing in.

“I look after you and you look after me, then,” Morse asked, as if he wasn’t already unbuttoning his shirt and his feet weren’t pointing towards the bathroom.

Jakes nodded, making sure that he was maintaining eye contact. Morse had the tendency to run away and disappear into his own mind when distressed, so it was important to establish that Morse didn’t feel unwanted or alone after experiencing something unpleasant. 

Like almost being eaten by a tiger. Good God, looking after that man wasn’t just making sure that he ate actual food at least once a day.

Jakes peeled the shell of the leftover hardboiled eggs he hadn’t eaten last night and buttered four slices of bread. Morse had vomited what little he’d managed to eat throughout the day, but he seemed to be able to keep tea down. And he had to eat something before he’d faint.

Morse looked better after cleaning up, his eyes brighter and already focusing on the kettle and the haphazard way Jakes was slicing the eggs. He was wearing one of Jakes’s old shirts, worn and faded with use.

They ate their egg sandwiches and burned the roofs of their mouths with scalding tea, seated at the rickety table in the corner. Morse chewed slowly and took small bites, testing to see if he could keep the food down. Jakes had seen so many ill suspects and victims trying to eat after getting bad news that the sight isn’t odd to him any longer.

Not that Morse couldn’t take care of himself. He could, but at times like these, keeping him away from the bottle was just common sense. Jakes didn’t keep alcohol in his bedsit. Drinks were to be had when you were at the pub.

“When we’re both Inspectors,” Morse said, sitting down of the single, narrow bed while Jakes lit a cigarette. “We can buy a bigger bed.”

“We’d have to share a flat, then,” Jakes said, blowing out smoke.

“Or a house,” Morse said, lying down on the bed and adjusted the covers. “They pay is more than decent.”

“Hm,” Jakes said, tapping his cigarette on the edge of the ashtray. “We’ll see.”

Morse’s eyes closed and his shoulders dropped. Gradually his breathing evened out and deepened and soon he was snoring lightly and drooling into the pillowcase. 

When Jakes had finished his cigarette and made sure that there was no way the remains would burn down the house, he brushed his teeth and removed his suit and shirt, folding them neatly on a nearby chair. Maneuvering Morse took some time, but Jakes managed to make enough room so that he could lay down beside him.

A bigger bed sounded just what they needed, even if the shared from their bodies was nice and a cheap substitute for a hot-water bottle. And Morse tended to kick hard and sing while asleep. Some distance was a good thing, sometimes.

 Jakes closed his eyes, aware that if he didn’t he’d spend the rest of the night thinking about deep claw-marks and far too much blood. Morse snored, mumbling something about music sheets.

Any other night, Jakes would have rolled onto the other side, or possibly woken Morse up. But tonight he listened, one eye open as Morse made a snuffling sound and continued dreaming. At least he could be certain that Morse wasn’t dreaming about tigers.


End file.
